Shortly after 9 a.m. ET on Tuesday, Philadelphia Union forward Freddy Adu -- one American soccer player about whom everybody seems to have an opinion -- wrote the following on Twitter:

“Sometimes people don't understand how hard it is to be a pro athlete. They only see the glam but a lot goes into it physically and mentally.”

The timing was fascinating. Had Adu seen Landon Donovan’s interview, too? It’s quite possible -- the L.A. Galaxy captain’s Q&A with ESPN’s Roger Bennett had torched the Internet since going live about 90 minutes earlier.

Donovan, at his candid and introspective best, echoed some of the comments he made in a conversation with Sporting News and a trio of other outlets in May. At that time, while in camp with the U.S. national team, Donovan admitted that his motivation and fire could be fickle at times. The Galaxy were losing, and he mentioned that he had consciously lowered his profile, reducing his interviews, endorsements and interaction with the public on social media. “I don’t really enjoy this aspect of it,” he said.

Not long after he turned 30, Donovan suggested that soccer was “more of a young man’s game” and hinted that a decade’s worth of pressure to be American soccer’s 24/7 poster boy, along with the constant criticism and conjecture that accompanied his decisions and demeanor, had sapped his will.

“I know a lot of people want to be famous and want to be a celebrity. ... I’m not complaining, (but) at my core I’m a pretty simple kid from a small town and I’ve been doing this a long time,” he said. "I’m actually excited for the day when I can step away from it and just be a normal person again.”

Three days later, Donovan had a hat trick in a 5-1 demolition of Scotland. He started each of the subsequent four national team matches before returning to L.A. and tallying seven goals and five assists over his next nine MLS games. The Galaxy were back in the playoff hunt, and Donovan seemed back to his old self.

But it didn’t last. He couldn’t shake the injury bug, and a hamstring and then a bone bruise knocked him out of World Cup qualifiers in September and October. He hasn’t scored an MLS goal since July 21 and when he sat down with ESPN recently, he seemed far more interested in discussing his life after soccer than his future on the field.

"I talk a lot with my family about my decision (to continue playing), as for the most part, they have had their son or brother gone for a long time," Donovan said. "While most soccer fans think a player's life is easy as we just seem to play soccer all the time, they don't see how many milestones I have missed with my family. My family wants me to either play and be happy or else to have their son and brother back."

He mentioned the “unique perspective” he might bring as a broadcaster and the prospect of “help(ing) young men make better decisions about their life” as a coach. He shared a vision of “traveling to distant places alone. I’m not sure where.”

Cue the indignation.

There were supportive and empathetic responses, certainly, but there also was the reader who called Donovan “way too much of a diva for my taste.” One called him a “detriment,” another “a very mediocre footballer with a bad attitude” and a third a “mentally frail” player who “never stepped up his game to move on from MLS.”

The vitriol was sufficient to prompt Bennett, the interviewer, to ask on Twitter, “Many of you suggesting pro-athletes have no right to talk like Landon did. But human beings should, no?”

Sure. But society has drawn a clear distinction between the two. In exchange for their improbable physical gifts and the accompanying wealth and celebrity, professional sportsmen and women are supposed to treat their games (and our entertainment) as their sole reason for being.

We celebrate those athletes who are the most focused and determined -- the ones the shoe companies depict rising before dawn to run hills and then staying late to pore over film. We want to hear them tell us, over and over again, about their singular devotion to their craft. The only emotions and observations we’re really comfortable with are those that paint the game as a noble cause or a battle to be won.

We expect them to be validated only by achievement, records and championships.

That’s what they owe those of us who weren’t blessed with such strength, speed and determination. It’s the only way we can make sense of their gifts -- they’re not entirely “human.” Leave the feelings, nuances, politics and intellect to us, and then let the gladiators be defined by their exploits in the arena or the vapid, luxurious lifestyle they’re supposed to lead outside it.

There are exceptions, of course, but they prove the rule. Chris Kluwe and Brendon Ayanbadejo -- a punter and a backup linebacker -- became household names after expressing opinions about gay marriage (politics and homosexuality have no place in a locker room, after all).

Ricky Williams became a punchline when he lost his love for the game, while Venus and Serena Williams were criticized for their interest in fashion and show business. Tim Thomas was booed vociferously inside NHL arenas after revealing his right-wing sympathies. Michael Phelps took a bong hit. Tony Romo went on vacation. Tim Tebow has been hammered for discussing his religion. Lolo Jones was hammered for discussing her chastity.

The common folk can express opinions, question career choices or make juvenile mistakes. But athletes must maintain a monkish commitment to fulfilling our vicarious demands. That’s why Donovan, despite his unparalleled on-field success with the U.S. national team, his four MLS Cup championships and his tireless work to advance soccer in this country, remains such a polarizing figure -- because we think he could have done more. He was lousy at the 2006 World Cup. He didn’t get along so well with David Beckham for a while. He’s spent his entire pro career in MLS, reserving his European sojourns (as an adult) to two brief loans at Everton and a half-hearted trial at Bayern Munich.

Never mind if that was Donovan wanted to do. He cheated us out of reveling in his achievements. If Adu was referencing the interview in his tweet, he surely can relate.

"When we were knocked out (of the ’06 World Cup), I took the brunt of the criticism, and justifiably so," Donovan told ESPN. "But it was hard for me, and I was forced to ask myself why I do what I do when I get this negative reaction just for playing one bad tournament. It honestly made me wonder if I want to stay part of it, but I decided to keep going because I was young and believed I could learn from the experience."

He did. After going through the upheaval of Beckham’s arrival and the turmoil of a divorce, Donovan gathered himself, won an MLS MVP award and captained L.A. to back-to-back Supporters Shield titles and the ‘11 MLS Cup. He was fantastic during two spells at Everton and shined on the biggest stage of all, scoring three goals at the ’10 World Cup.

But it never is enough for the pundits or the peanut gallery, so Donovan has become beleaguered. He understandably is tired of the scrutiny and the demands placed on a player who is the focus of every opposing defense and the first request for every journalist and marketer.

When he does express himself honestly, he’s ripped for it. If he doesn’t, he’s aloof and immature.

On Tuesday, when he told ESPN that his prospects of playing in the next World Cup are 50/50, it rippled through the soccer sphere. Isn’t a World Cup the end all and be all?

“I know that I have many better things and greater things to do in my life,” he said in May.

For now, Donovan has an injury to overcome and an MLS championship to defend. When healthy, he has played well. He is second in MLS with 14 assists, and an MLSSoccer.com analysis published Tuesday revealed that Donovan is by far the most efficient creator of scoring chances from open play in the league. There is little question that the U.S. -- which has been getting results but struggling to play the sort of fluid, proactive and attacking style preferred by coach Jurgen Klinsmann -- could use Donovan’s flair and decisiveness on the ball.

But Donovan might not need the national team. He said he will take a much-needed break after the season to re-evaluate his career and his direction. Perhaps he’ll travel to distant places alone. Perhaps he’ll realize he needs a change of scenery and make that move to Europe. After all, he said this week that Everton “stole my heart.”

Ironically, playing in the English Premier League would allow Donovan to escape the part of the spotlight he seems to find most burdensome. He’d be just another player on a diverse, talented squad. He’d miss his family, sure. But he’d be revitalized and challenged on and off the field. It sounds invigorating, after all those years in California. After proving himself on loan and at the World Cup, he surely is comfortable in his own skin as a player. After picking up stakes and taking his chances on a new home, he’d be empowered as a person.

A whole person, not just a soccer player.

Donovan didn’t earn the right to follow his whims or change his mind about his circumstances after winning his fourth MLS Cup or scoring that goal against Algeria. He always has had it.

And when he finally retires, whether that’s before or after the ’14 World Cup, he should be remembered as more than just a lengthy list of accomplishments. He is a unique and welcome character in sports -- a genuine, flawed, honest and well-rounded human being.